One Week of Summer (9 page)

“You know what I mean,” he said impatiently.

“I know
exactly
what you mean,” I said back. “Because
my
house is down there.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“You figured,” I replied woodenly as I shoved his arms away from my body.

“Hey!”

He reached for me, but I sidestepped him and darted away, ignoring the way I had to hold my ripped dress in place.

Logically, I knew I had nowhere to go and that it would only take a few moments for Teekay to catch up to me.  But I didn’t want him to see the hurt on my face.  I dashed down the path toward the house.

I made it as far as the kitchen before Teekay’s powerful grip closed on my shoulder.

“Let me go!” I cried out, a surprising amount of force in my voice.

But Teekay wasn’t moved by it anyway. “No.”

“No?!” I retorted angrily.

“Not until you tell me what the fuck just happened.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t owe
anyone
anything.” My words started out fierce, but as I finished, I grew closer to tears, and my voice got smaller and smaller until it was barely more than a whisper.

Teekay released my shoulder, and I thought my anguish was too much for him.  No.  I
knew
it was too much for him.

And why wouldn’t it be?

A popular, attractive guy like Teekay had no reason to be patient with a sad, pathetic girl like me.  I was a mouse.  I knew it.  Everyone who met me knew it.

I hung my head, overwhelmed.

But Teekay didn’t leave.  Instead, he scooped me up, set me on the counter, and wrapped his arms around me.  I resisted for less than a second before I sank into him.

“What was it, darlin’?” he murmured as he smoothed his hands over my hair. “When I said Shackside?”

“They’re not shacks,” I replied, a tremor audible in my voice.

Teekay leaned back but continued his gentle strokes over my hair.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

I didn’t give in to the urge to just nod my head. “I know they’re not mansions like yours, but they’re still houses with people and—”

Teekay cut me off. “Maggie! I know that. I swear to you, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just a habit. And I’ll break the habit if it bothers you that much.” He met my gaze, then touched my cheek. “I
like
the beach house area. I swim there almost every day. Even my dad, real estate mogul extraordinaire, bought up some property down there. I’m sorry if I made you feel devalued. Cross my heart. I’ll never say you-know-what again.”

His eyes were full of sincerity and when he offered me a smile, it was small and hopeful.  Warm.  Sweet.  And it made my heart swell in a way I couldn’t define. 

I reached out hesitantly and ran the back of my hand down his face.  It was the first time I’d touched him voluntarily without the heat of the moment spurring me on.  It felt good.  It was almost empowering.  Especially when his eyes closed and he leaned into my caress.

“I’m going to show you my sister’s closet, okay?” he said softly. “You can pick something to wear while we shop.”

“Can’t I just wear something of hers until you stop holding me captive?”

He opened his eyes and smiled a little stiffly. “No.”

“Why not?”

“One, my sister would freak the fuck out if she knew I lent you something. Two, her clothes will be six inches too long for you. And three, because I really, really want to know you’re wearing something I bought you.”

It was impossible to argue with the boyishly hopeful look on Teekay’s face, and two minutes later, I found myself standing just outside the middle of the pinkest room I’d ever seen.  Rose-tinted walls were the backdrop for a cotton candy-colored bed and wine-hued furniture.

“It looks like a bubble gum factory threw up in there,” I said.

“My sister. The overgrown princess,” Teekay agreed

Everywhere I turned hurt my eyes.  I was scared to even look in the closet for fear of finding nothing but frills and lace.

“Pick something…pretty,” Teekay teased.

“You’re not coming?”

There was that same, stiff smile. “Hardly. Pink and I don’t get along. I’ll meet you by the front door in ten minutes.”

He leaned in, his lips just shy of my forehead, then pulled away abruptly and left me standing in front of the abyss of a closet.

5)

I swallowed apprehensively as I eyed up Teekay’s sister’s clothes.  The closet was full to the point of explosion, every item a different pastel colour.  And it was all piled together in no discernible order.  Shorts with dresses with bras with jeans.

I stuck out a reluctant hand and gripped a t-shirt at random.

Unlike most of the others, it was a muted shade of purple.  And when I pulled it out, I saw that the tag was still attached to the sleeve.

My eyes strayed back to the closet.  A lot of the items inside still had the prices attached.

Who buys this many things and doesn’t wear them?
I wondered.

If I brought my entire well-washed, well-worn wardrobe and stuck it into this closet, it wouldn’t take up a tenth of the space.

“How am I supposed to pick something?” I muttered to myself.

With a resigned sigh, I reached for the simplest thing I could find – a plain white T-shirt.  But I dropped it quickly when I spied the tag.

Three hundred dollars?! For a T-shirt?!

A never-worn T-shirt.

I took a step back and decided whatever I picked had better not be brand new.  If I wrecked anything the way I had done to my dress, I didn’t want it to be something worth more than my life.  Especially considering how clear Teekay had made it that his sister wasn’t big on sharing.

I dug through a pile of particularly wrinkled items and settled on a pair of faded leggings and a tunic-length shirt.

I got changed quickly, then eyed myself distastefully in the mirror.

The shirt hung to my knees and the leggings bunched at my ankles.  But at least I wasn’t wearing a three-hundred dollar T-shirt.

I folded up my clothes and shoved them under my arm, then made my way downstairs before I could change my mind.

Teekay was waiting for me, one elbow lifted and arm resting on the railing.  He’d changed into a pair of low-slung, dark denim jeans and an open-collared, short-sleeved dress shirt.  With his damp hair curling on his forehead and his tanned throat exposed, he looked like a modern day Greek god. 

And I looked like I was one fanny pack and a jewelled ball cap short of a senior’s discount.

When he spotted me, a lopsided grin formed on his face.  He eyed me up and down, and I waited for him to tell me I resembled a teenage boy dressed in his grandmother’s clothes.  Instead he bent down and his hands closed over my feet.

I gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Shoes, darlin’.”

His fingers worked to slide my sandals on, then reached around to do up the straps while I pretended that the humble gesture didn’t send tingles through my whole body.

When he was done fastening the shoes, his hands played over my feet and ankles for another sensual minute before he came to his feet.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Thank you,” I breathed, then blushed at my unrelated reply. “I meant yes. I’m ready.”

Teekay just chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

He threaded his fingers through mine and led me out the front door, where a flashy sports car – the kind that brought to mind girls in bikinis lounging on hoods – sat waiting in the driveway.

“What about your bike?” I asked immediately.

“Figured you’d be more comfortable in my car,” Teekay replied.

“In
this
?”

“Something wrong with it?”

“No, I – Teekay…How much did your jeans cost?” I blurted.

He looked down at his denim-clad legs. “Huh?”

“How much did they cost?”

“I dunno. A hundred bucks? I don’t usually look at the tags.”

I took a breath. “Teekay…I think you should take me home.”

He frowned. “Because of my jeans?”

“Because of the jeans…Because of the car…The house…Everything.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“A hundred dollars is enough money to pay for everything I eat in a month,” I explained.

“So?”

“So…You’re
wearing
my monthly grocery bill.”

“What about it?”

“It scares me,” I admitted in a whisper.

“Hundred dollar jeans
scare
you?”

I refused to back down. “Not the jeans, Teekay. What they mean.”

“What do they mean?”

“That you have so much more than I do. That what you have is worth so much more than what I have.”

“Okay, Maggie. Two things. First. What the fuck? And the second…What the
fuck
?”

I looked away from his vicious tone. “Teekay—”

He cut me off. “You are so lucky that I’m a man of my word, Maggie. Because if I hadn’t sworn not to put my lips on you until you asked, I’d be kissing the idiocy out of you right now. And it wouldn’t be nicely.”

“I—”

“Get in the fucking car,” he snarled, and whipped open the passenger door just as Donnie pulled into the driveway in a nondescript sedan. “Now. Before I do something we both regret.”

The thought of getting into the car with him made me fearful.  But I was more worried about what he would do if I
didn’t
comply.  So I leaped into the car and Teekay slammed the door behind me, hard enough to make my teeth rattle.

In moments, he was behind the wheel, jamming the car into gear and tearing down the driveway.

And I was suddenly grateful for the dark-colored car following behind us.  Because at least if Teekay drove the car off the road in fury, there’d be someone to drag me from the wreck.

“Let me get this straight,” he said in a cold, measured voice that was completely at odds with his reckless speed. “You want me to take you home. Because I can afford nice things. And because my
jeans
are too fucking expensive.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I spoke in a weak voice, and when Teekay didn’t answer immediately, I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me and I tried again. “I—”

He cut me off once more. “How the fuck
did
you mean it, Maggie? I mean, is there a way to hate someone because they’re well off that doesn’t make you a prejudiced asshole?”

“I—”

“Do
you
have money, Maggie?”

My face flamed. “No.”

“Did I stop and ask you how much that pretty little dress of yours cost before I dragged you away from Delia and Ennia?”

“No,” I said again.

“Because that would’ve been a dipshit move. And because I don’t
care
how much or how little something costs.”

His words, as angry as they were, made sense.  And I suddenly felt guilty.  I opened my mouth to offer an apology – a real one, not a habitual one – but he spoke again, and my words died before they were even born.

“Why the hell would anyone think social status mattered that much?”

And a floodgate opened.

“Because it has!” I cried. “Because it does! Because every single day for the last four years, someone has made sure I know just how far below them I sit! You want to know why I didn’t fight back at the beach yesterday? Well
that’s
why. I know how little material value I have and I know how impossible it would be to make girls like Kirby think otherwise. And just because you suddenly say it doesn’t matter, doesn’t change that!”

Teekay slammed on the brakes and swerved off the road, sending the car careening over the gravel shoulder.  We bounced along jerkily before we came to a shuddering stop.  One tire leaned precariously over the ditch on the side of the road.

Donnie whipped past us in the sedan, and I could only imagine what was going through his mind as he yanked the car off the road several hundred feet ahead of us.  But Teekay didn’t even seem to notice.

“Who the fuck did this to you?” he demanded.

“I told you! Kirby! And every girl like her,” I told him.

“And your friends?”

“
What
friends?”

He ran an angry hand through his still damp hair. “Jesus. What about the guys?”

“What about them?” I countered.

“They just let the girls pick on you?”

“Why would they stop them?”

“Because it’s the right fucking thing to do!”

“I don’t think they even noticed I existed.”

From across the car, I met his gaze.  I waited for him to make a connection.  To realize that he could’ve been, quite literally, one of those guys.  There was just one year separating my jail-sentence at the high school where he’s been king.

But he just stared back at me, fury and frustration clear on his face.

And even though he didn’t know it, his next statement hammered home my point.

“If I
ever
came close to that kind of bullshit, bullying behavior, heads would fucking roll.”

It was that much worse because he truly sounded like he meant it.

“I wish I’d known you,” I said softly, wondering if he could tell at all that I meant it in more than a dreamy, abstract way.

“Me too,” he replied, then reached over to touch my scarred cheek and added vehemently, “Never again, Maggie. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Before I could answer, before I could tell him that we’d really just met less than twenty-four hours earlier, and that he could go back to not knowing me just as quickly, he kicked the car into gear and pulled us back onto the road.  As we passed Donnie, Teekay shot him a dark grin and a wave, and I decided not to mention it at all. 

Instead, I let the idea that Theodore Kimball Marcus cared wash over me.  I let myself believe it meant something.  And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I let myself feel valued.